


Hot for Teacher

by Safiyabat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Consensual Underage Sex, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a sixteen year old with a fairly normal sexual appetite.  The transient Winchester lifestyle doesn't really allow for healthy ways of satisfying his desires, but his math teacher is hot, available and more likely to be up for a purely sexual relationship.  Everything is going great until John and Dean return from their hunt...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot for Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the following anonymous prompt on spnkink-meme on LJ:
> 
> Sam's teacher is hot as hell. When the teenager discovers that his teacher feels the same way about him, he doesn't hesitate to act on it - his father and brother don't know he's gay, and sleeping with his teacher is easier than trying to build a functional relationship. Sam doesn't think that the man loves him. He knows it's just about sex, and that's okay with him - hell, that turns him on.
> 
> It's going great until Dean finds out. Can end as Sam/Dean if OP wants.
> 
> ** Please note that there are a lot of very screwed up dynamics here; I'm not trying to pretend that there aren't.**

Sam listened to Mr. Rodriguez talk about the exams he’d just finished grading, or rather he listened to the teacher’s voice as he talked. It was a nice voice, low and clear. He’d aced the exam. He didn’t need to turn the thing over to see that and he didn’t need to listen to the details; he’d known it when Rodriguez (with his perfect “V” body, and his long, narrow fingers) passed it out. They were covering material that Sam had covered six schools and three states ago. He’d aced it then. He’d ace it the next time he had to cover it, after his father uprooted them yet again and made them start over. He didn’t even need to think about it at this point; calculus was like breathing.

Unfortunately for him, the fact that he’d already covered all of the material meant that he had literally nothing to distract him from his own issues. Dad and Dean were gone, off on a hunt at an old abandoned mine or something. They hadn’t given Sam a lot of information, because not only could Sam not be trusted to go on a hunt of that magnitude or to watch their backs but he couldn’t be trusted to know where the hell they were going or what they were doing. Not that he wanted to go hunting, not on a hunt of any kind at all. But if Dad was going to give him crap about being a hunter you’d figure that he’d want him hunting, give him half a chance to prove himself instead of making him sit on his ass here in a rented double-wide not knowing if the ghost had killed them or if maybe drug runners had decided they were getting too close to their hiding places or maybe the stupid mine had just collapsed right on top of them, because mines did that all the time, you saw it on the news and stuff and it wasn’t like they designed mines in the eighteen hundreds for safety.

Or, there was the other stuff. Sam was sixteen, and he’d shot up by a good seven inches in the past year, and his insides were doing all kinds of things to him to which he hadn’t necessarily consented. He’d resented his father for years for everything he’d read in that journal and for dragging them along on this mission of self-destruction, but now that resentment boiled into a seething fury. He’d always been lonely – the way he’d grown up, the different treatment given to him as opposed to his brother ensured that. Now he found himself desperate for any kind of affection, any sort of notice, any sort of praise. He’d always been different but now rebellion had become a kind of compulsion.

And now… well, now he had these desires. Needs, really, or at least they felt like needs. Intellectually he knew that he probably wouldn’t die without sex but try telling that to his body or to his hormones. He wanted to touch and to be touched, to lick and to suck and to have someone devoting some of their time to filling up that void inside him until he shouted himself hoarse. It wasn’t like sex was unknown to him; living the way they had, he’d have had to have lived entirely in the trunk and gone around with a soundproof bag on his head besides to have not known. But he hadn’t wanted like this, not the way he had since he’d been about fourteen. 

The healthy way of dealing with it, of course, would have been to find a long-term romantic partner and build up to sex. That was how normal people did it. He’d read books about it, paid attention in health class the one time they’d had a decent unit on sexuality instead of “abstinence is best and if you don’t wait until you’re married your bits will fall off.”. That was the healthy way, and that was what Sam wanted. It wasn’t an option for Sam. Of course it wasn’t; Dad had seen to that. One more thing to hate him for, he supposed. If he couldn’t stay in one place for more than a couple of weeks, how was he supposed to build a relationship? And that was what he wanted, of course – a real partnership, someone who cared for him and wanted him around instead of someone who ditched him for weeks at a time in mouse-infested trailers or rat-infested apartments while going off to do more important things somewhere else. That would never happen, wasn’t allowed for Sam. 

What he could have was furtive, brief liaisons that his father and brother could never, ever even briefly suspect. His first kiss, Amy Pond, had been someone he’d cared for very much. She’d also been a kitsune that he’d had to clean out of a crime scene and Sam had known her for all of a day. The first person he’d penetrated had been a water nymph trapped by a witch’s curse who wanted to show her gratitude for freeing her from that curse before she slipped back into her lake, barely in time to avoid Dad and Dean. The first person he’d been penetrated by – another short-term “relationship” of all of two weeks when Dad and Dean had been gone, yet again, and Sam had gotten very attached, and both Dad and Dean were still complaining about his “attack of the vapors” like Dad hadn’t decided that neither of his sons were allowed to have lives at all because his own relationship hadn’t been suddenly ended by an outside force. 

The whole point of which was that Sam would have preferred a real relationship, but he wasn’t going to get it and sometimes he really, really needed to have the company of another person. Sure, it wasn’t healthy. Nothing about their lifestyle was healthy if he was being honest, and frankly he’d always known he was an unclean little thing anyway. So what the hell? 

Of course, the problem was that none of these other kids from Spring Creek were really suitable for what he had in mind. Spring Creek was a pretty affluent community; there weren’t a lot of teenaged kids who were going to be interested in screwing around with a kid in patched-up hand-me-downs that didn’t fit. It wasn’t that they were shallow; it was that everything about him screamed “not our kind of people,” even if they could have been persuaded to keep things strictly sexual. Which they probably weren’t - it wasn’t like this was Sam’s first small town, after all, and it wasn’t even like Sam really wanted to keep do things that way. 

There was a perfectly good option available, of course. Well, maybe not perfectly good from a legal standpoint. He’d done some poking around into age of consent laws, but he was pretty sure that they didn’t apply when the “adult” in question was the minor’s math teacher. Mr. Rodriguez, though, he was incredible. He was beautiful. Dark skin, prominent cheekbones, softly curling hair and those hands, with those long, tapering fingers… Sam could spend hours thinking about those fingers. He did spend hours thinking about those fingers, gripping his biceps. Holding his wrists above his head with one strong hand while he gently teased him open with the other… 

Sure, he wasn’t the first student to fantasize about a teacher. He wasn’t even the first one to fantasize about Mr. Rodriguez – he’d heard Kelsey Mitchell and Lisa Hansen in English class, and there was absolutely no mistaking the poem Sara-with-no-h Ryder had written. They weren’t the ones whose lips he’d caught the teacher staring at, though. They weren’t the ones whose chests had caught his eye, either, and that was the first time Sam had figured that maybe the stupid growth spurt had maybe a few advantages. 

Today he had every intention of finding out just how many.

Math was the last class of the day. The other students got up from their desks and filed lazily out into the hallway, and Sam found himself half-hard in his jeans already. _Jumping the gun a bit_ , he chided himself, but there was Rodriguez clearing his throat and taking off his wire-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Winchester, could I speak to you for a moment after class?” he asked as a trio of blondes squeezed past him.

“Of course, sir.” He kept his voice neutral, but met his eyes over the crowd. 

It took a good five to seven minutes for the room to empty, and Sam took the opportunity to pack up his things. When he saw Rodriguez pull the blinds down on the window and lock the door behind the last student, he let himself have the smallest of smiles. This was so going to go his way. 

“I couldn’t help but notice that even though you don’t pay very close attention in class, Sam, you seem to be passing with flying colors.” Rodriguez returned to his desk but he didn’t sit on the chair. He leaned against the front of the desk, half supporting himself on his hands. 

“Sorry, sir. We covered the material at my last school.” Sam approached the desk, making sure he stood just close enough to be within the older man’s personal space. “It’s nothing personal. You’re an excellent teacher.” 

He grinned a little, revealing perfectly white teeth. Sam wondered if he had them professionally whitened. “Sam. I’ve… I’ve seen you looking at me.” 

Sam let himself grin fully now, a dark grin that usually stood him in good stead. “I’ve seen you looking at me too. Sir.” 

Rodriguez swallowed, hard. That was good – Sam had him off balance, then. “Sam – you’re an attractive young man, you have to know that. But you… you’re sixteen. And I’m your teacher.” 

“So?” Sam moved closer.

“So not only is that illegal, it’s not healthy. You should be out with other kids your age, dating them. Out in public. We could never do that, not ever. Even if we wanted to.” His hands twitched by his side, moving almost involuntarily toward Sam’s hips. 

“Sir, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. This is my sixth school this year, and probably not even my last. I don’t get to do dates. I get to have sex. Sometimes. That’s about it. Why do you think I’ve been looking at you instead of at other high school kids? You’re more likely to get that.” If he moved just a little bit to the side, just enough that Rodriguez wouldn’t even notice that he’d moved, his hand would actually be on Sam’s right hip instead of just twitching toward it. Perfect. 

Rodriguez whimpered. “I shouldn’t even be thinking of this,” he whispered. 

“Let me help clear your mind up,” Sam whispered back, and kissed him.

He knew he was good at kissing, and when Rodriguez gasped and pulled him closer he knew he was on the right path. The older man was hardening against him, just from the touch of their tongues. Sam could sympathize – his own erection pressed against the zipper of his jeans mercilessly. “Shouldn’t do this here,” Rodriguez gasped in his ear when they came up for air. 

“My place is free,” Sam told him. “It’s not much but it’s secluded. It’s not that unusual for a teacher to give a student a ride home, is it?” He grinned.

“Not at all.”

They rearranged their clothing and made their way out to the parking lot. For a moment, even as he gave directions out to the trailer, Sam wondered how often Rodriguez did this. On the one hand Spring Creek was in a fairly conservative area. He probably didn’t have a whole lot of opportunities for sex with men, no matter what their ages. On the other, they must get some folks through here – folks like Sam’s family, transients. Whatever – Sam wasn’t in a position to be picky.

It didn’t take long to get to the trailer; Spring Creek wasn’t that big. Sam had made sure that the trailer was presentable, or at least as presentable as it could get. One advantage of having the place to himself was that he could be as much of a “neat freak” as he wanted and no one could screw it up for him, and of course his partner couldn’t see the salt lines or the weapons. “You’re sure no one’s going to come home for a while?” Rodriguez pressed. 

“Yeah, my dad and brother are away on a job. We’re good for a while. Can I get you anything?” 

Rodriguez stepped in then, covering Sam’s mouth with his own, and Sam let instinct take over. He’d softened up a little on the ride, but Rodriguez’ hands on him quickly brought him around again. Those long, perfect fingers unbuttoned Sam’s flannel and helped him shrug it off, even as Sam carefully helped him to take off his blue striped dress shirt and drape it carefully on the back of a chair. They were less careful about each other’s undershirts, peeling them off without a lot of concern. 

Sam grinned as he stared at the older man’s bare chest. He was in great shape – he’d thought as much, from the way that the guy moved, but it wasn’t like you could see that underneath the dress clothes a teacher wore. He brushed his hands across his partner’s pecs, enjoying his gasp as he ghosted across his dark nipples. “Sensitive,” he commented, taking one of the already-pebbled buds into his mouth and nibbling gently. Rodriguez groaned aloud, although whether that was from what Sam was doing to his chest or the way Sam’s hands had moved south to pet his still-clothed cock he couldn’t tell. After a few moments, though, he put his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gently pressed down. Well, that was fine. Sam had wanted this, and he’d always planned to go down. 

He sank to his knees, glad he’d vacuumed before he’d left for school that morning, and got to work. He considered mouthing him through his dress pants for a while but decided against it; they were dry-clean only, after all. Instead he opened them carefully and pulled them, along with his white boxers, down to Rodriguez’ knees. Then, with his eyes firmly glued to his partner’s, he took him into his mouth. 

Sam had learned early on – before he’d learned to kiss, really, because sometimes a hunter’s life was hard and sometimes being a hunter’s kid was harder – that he kind of liked sucking cock. Not the taste – no one liked the taste – but the feeling of it, the control of it. He liked the way he got to set the pace; he liked the way he could change things up a bit if he felt like it. He could take Rodriguez deep into his throat if he wanted. He could pull all the way back and just tease the tip, or that little spot just underneath the crown. He could go fast or slow, coy and kittenish or intense and direct. Rodriguez just hung on – at this point it was all he could do, with his head thrown back and his hands buried deep into Sam’s hair, tugging every once in a while in ways that made the zipper on Sam’s jeans fifty seven times more uncomfortable. Finally the teacher came with a strangled moan, spilling hot and intense down Sam’s throat. Sam didn’t pull back but swallowed every drop, patiently waiting until Rodriguez was soft and empty before he stood up with a smile. 

Rodriguez blinked. “That mouth,” he chuckled weakly. “You’ve got talent beyond the academic, Sam.” 

“Thank you.” There was no sense in false modesty; he was good at this, and he knew it. He helped Rodriguez step out of his clothes, still on shaky legs even though he was recovering quickly. 

He offered a little smile. Rodriguez removed his shoes and socks and sat on the bed, gesturing to Sam to join him. When Sam came close enough, his lover grabbed him and unbuttoned his jeans. Sam grinned as wandering hands discovered the lack of underwear; apparently going commando was a kink for his partner. “Sam,” he breathed as his dick twitched. “I had no idea.” 

“Let’s just say I was hopeful.”

Unzipping was a delicate operation, all things considered, but clearly Rodriguez had done this before because he managed it with a minimum amount of discomfort and managed to shuck Sam’s clothes. “You’ve got an incredible body, Sam. Especially for someone that young.” 

“I stay busy,” he admitted. “You going to do something with it?”

Rodriguez did. Apparently he hadn’t missed Sam’s reactions when he’d tugged on his hair because he didn’t hold back from doing it now as he kissed, licked, sucked and bit his way down Sam’s form. He didn’t mark him up anywhere that would be visible in the course of a normal school day, but Sam would know the marks were there. Rodriguez’ dick started to show an interest in things again as he flipped Sam over onto his hands and knees. “Lube?” he panted into Sam’s ear.

Sam got up and grabbed a bottle from his bag, along with a few condoms. “Never know when you’ll have a chance,” he admitted at the teacher’s raised eyebrow. 

Rodriguez shook his head with a laugh and slicked up his fingers. “Back on your hands and knees,” he urged.

Sam complied quickly, spreading his legs for easier access. Funny how if Dad or Dean gave him an order he pushed back immediately but now? Now he couldn’t obey fast enough. Probably because he knew there would be results from obedience, he thought cynically. Rodriguez didn’t delay pressing a slick finger into him. Sam couldn’t help but press back onto his finger, trying to take him deeper. It had been a while; Dean had been watching him like a hawk and Dad wouldn’t even let him have an extra three seconds in the shower to take care of himself.

Another finger joined the first immediately. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” he challenged, maybe a little breathlessly.

“Well sure. But look at you – I mean, I wish you could see yourself, Sam.” Rodriguez’ voice dropped to a purr in his ear, low and deep. “You’re pretty much fucking yourself on my fingers, like you’re just dying for something to fill you up. And you didn’t hesitate to drop right to your knees earlier.” 

Sam felt his cheeks pink up, but whether that was from the dirty talk or the way that those long, tapered fingers were dragging across his prostate he couldn’t say. “What’re you trying to say?” he gasped out.

A third finger found its way in, maybe a little sooner than was really necessary but Sam didn’t mind. He liked the burn and stretch. “I’m saying that in addition to being a brilliant student, you might be a bit of a slut, Sam.” 

He gave a bit of a laugh. “Maybe,” he had to admit. “But right now I’m your slut.” 

Apparently those were the right words to use, because the rest of the prep sped up. Rodriguez rolled a condom on, slicked himself up and entered into Sam. 

They both gave it a moment for Sam’s body to adjust, with both of them sweating and Rodriguez trembling with the effort of holding himself still. Finally Sam felt that his body had accepted the intrusion sufficiently. “Fuck me,” he growled.

“What’s the magic word here?” his lover teased with a smirk, even though he was shaking by now. 

“Please,” Sam groaned. “Please fuck me.” 

“Very good.”

Rodriguez didn’t fuck him like he was screwing a sixteen-year-old boy. He gripped his hips hard, grabbing him hard enough to bruise. Sam wouldn’t describe him as “rough,” necessarily, but he sure wasn’t tender and Sam was absolutely going to feel this for the next few days. That was fine – better than fine. “Oh yeah,” he cried out as his partner dragged across his prostate again. “Right there – just like that.” When Sam thought he was so hard he might explode, literally, his partner reached one hand around and grasped him. It only took a few tugs for him to come, his release exploding thick and hot over the bed. Rodriguez followed not long afterward and they fell over, spent. 

They went for one more round that afternoon before Rodriguez needed to go. He showered in the small shower stall. “Sam,” he paused, fully dressed, before he left, “what happens now?” 

“I told you, sir. I can’t really, you know, date. And I know you’d lose your job if you did.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I know. But… we both had a good time. Right?” Sam nodded, so Rodriguez took a deep breath before going on. “So there’s no reason we couldn’t keep going, right? I mean, just… you know, mutually beneficial. Not a date thing. Just… helping each other out. Like today.” 

Sam bit his lip, not missing the way the teacher’s eyes were drawn to the gesture. “I can’t… I mean, I could have to leave at any time. I probably wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, you know?”

“We’ll have to live with that. It doesn’t have to mean that we can’t enjoy ourselves in the time we’ve got.” He reached out and stroked Sam’s face.

Instinctively Sam took one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it for a moment. Maybe he was a bit of a slut, at that. He guessed his teen years were supposed to be about learning who he was, after all. “Okay,” he decided. He certainly felt better after their little frolic this afternoon. Calmer, less angry and despairing. “But here’s the thing – if you see any cars here, either a pickup truck or a classic Impala, you don’t even knock on the door. That’s my family. And they’re not open minded.” 

“Got it.”

On the surface of things, nothing changed. No one at school would have ever known that there was anything going on for either of them. Every once in a while Rodriguez would give Sam a ride home from school, but he said that was only because he found out that he was living so far away. It washed with his colleagues; everyone knew Sam lived out by the golf course. The teacher didn’t come over when Sam worked his part-time job over at the golf course, but he made sure he stopped over three or four times a week at least. 

After the first week he asked Sam if he’d be okay bringing some toys over. Sam hesitated, but only briefly. After all, they had a good thing going. Why risk it over a few things that might be fun anyway? He decided he wasn’t okay with restraints – too much like hunting, or at least like things that happened while hunting. He didn’t mind a blindfold, though. Or a cockring, sometimes. The dildo – that was a nice little gift for times when Rodriguez wasn’t going to be able to make it. The best one of all was the plug. Oh, he liked the plug, keeping him nice and a little stretched for the hot teacher.

He heard from his family once during the month, at the two-week mark. Dean said they’d be home sometime in the next couple of days; they just had another couple of things to wrap up at the mine. Sam didn’t believe them. Dean would probably come back when he said he would if he could, but Dad was the one driving the bus and if he didn’t want to leave then he wasn’t going to leave. 

Of course, it all came to an abrupt end about a month after it started, on a Friday night. Rodriguez was over – well, of course he was. On a Friday evening they could both wind down from a long school week; neither of them worked on Saturday mornings, they could stay up as long as they wanted to. They’d devoured some take out and Rodriguez was sprawled out on the worn old couch, pants down just far enough to release the parts Sam wanted just now. Sam, for his part, was on his knees before his math teacher, mouth wrapped around the older man’s cock. He should have been more alert, he should have been paying better attention, but Rodriguez had his fingers wrapped tightly in Sam’s hair and the plug was in him stretching him just right, and Rodriguez was making just the best little sounds – 

The door flew open. “Sammy!” Dean yelled. “Come on, man, grab your shit! We’re heading out, leaving in ten –” He broke off as Sam jumped back and stood up. “What the fuck.” It wasn’t even a question. “I’m getting Dad.” Dean backed out of the trailer.

Sam turned to Rodriguez. “Bathroom window. Now. I’ll hold them off.” 

His lover wasn’t sure. “Are you going to be okay?”

“They won’t let me get out that easily. I’ll be fine. You won’t be. Just go. ”

Rodriguez ran. Sam heard the engine turn over and relaxed slightly, knowing that whatever happened his partner was safe. It hadn’t been love, but it had worked out for both of them and he didn’t deserve to get harmed for having made life a little better for Sam. 

John Winchester stormed into the trailer with Dean hot on his heels. He had a pistol drawn and ready. “Where is he?” he growled.

“Who?” Sam asked innocently. 

John backhanded him. “The guy you were –” He cut himself off and wiped his hand on his pant leg. “What the hell were you even thinking, boy? Your brother told me that he caught you with someone.” 

“So what?” Sam scoffed. “I’m sixteen. I have sex.” 

“Who the hell gave you permission?” John’s eyes bulged and a vein appeared right in the left-center part of his forehead. “You arrogant, obnoxious, insubordinate –“ 

“Oh, so it was alright for Dean to go out and sow his wild oats or whatever when he was all of what, thirteen? Fourteen? You encouraged that!” Sam snarled. Most of him was trying to keep his father and brother’s attention on him. Plenty of his words came from that fury bubbling back up inside him again too – what had that taken, all of ten seconds since his father had come home? The case of blue balls didn’t help his temper either, he had to admit.

“Don’t go dragging me into your bullshit,” Dean objected. “That guy had to be at least twenty-five!” 

“So what? You were screwing Liddy Taylor when you were fifteen and she was thirty-two.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. 

“It’s different for Dean,” John shouted, stepping closer to Sam. 

The teen refused to be intimidated. “Oh yeah? Why’s that? Is it because he was screwing around with an older woman or because he’s your golden child? Huh?” He gave a bitter little laugh even as his father grabbed his arm, hard enough to bruise. 

“It just is. There is nothing for you outside this family, boy. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” He dragged Sam even closer. 

“And what’s that, John?” Sam sneered back. “Have a life? Pretty sure there’s nothing for me inside this family either, seeing as how I was screwing that guy for a month and you had no fucking clue.” 

His father slapped him hard enough to knock him to the ground. He didn’t care. By this point John was distracted; he wouldn’t go after Rodriguez now. “Get your shit. Anything you don’t carry out to the car in five minutes stays behind. Dean – with me.” Dean and John left the room and Sam was left to pick himself up and get his things together. Good thing he never, ever unpacked. He grabbed his bags and walked out to the space in front of the trailer – he couldn’t dignify it with the title of yard. 

Dean and Dad were still talking, hadn’t noticed that he’d come out. “I can’t even stand to look at him right now,” Dad was telling Dean. “Just… I can’t believe him. On top of everything else, now he’s got to be a fag too.” 

What “everything else” could he be talking about? Oh right – not being strong enough, fast enough. Not wanting to hunt. Preferring to study. Just being a terrible son. “This is all my stuff,” he informed them, back straight and chin out. 

John gave him a look of undisguised disgust. “You couldn’t have put a shirt on?”

Sam smirked. “Wasn’t given permission.” John’s face went red. 

Dean just shook his head. “Put a shirt on, Sammy, and get in the car. Where are the weapons we left behind?”

“Oh. Those are yours. Not mine.”

Dean physically shoved him into the car. “You shut your pie hole,” he growled into Sam’s ear, buckling the seatbelt around him like he was five, “or I’ll ventilate you myself so Dad doesn’t have to.” 

Sam slumped down into the seat, still feeling the plug inside of him. It was going to be a long drive to wherever the hell they were going. Dean spoke with their father, then he got into the driver’s seat and put it into gear. He cranked up Motorhead for the first hour of the journey. Then, and only then, did he turn off the radio and speak to Sam. “So. You’re gay.” 

“Nope.” 

“Pretty sure that was a dick in your mouth, Sammy.” 

“Yup.” 

“So what was that?” Dean’s face darkened. “Did that creep coerce you into something you didn’t want to do?” 

“Nope.”

“Give me something to work with here, Sammy. I’m pissed as hell –“

“You have no right to be pissed about a goddamn thing, Dean. You’re out screwing a different girl every night. I’ve got – I want things too, all right? They’re not the same things you want, but it’s not like I was ever going to be a monk.”

“So you’re gay.” 

“What the hell, Dean. Sexuality isn’t binary. People aren’t gay or straight. I like guys. I like girls too. Bisexual. It’s not that difficult to pronounce.”

“And that means you had to go screwing a guy half again your age?”

“Again, you don’t have a leg to stand on, Dean.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the cool window glass. 

“Sam, that guy was totally taking advantage of you – an innocent little kid like that. It was wrong.” Dean glowered. 

Sam huffed. “’Innocent little kid.’ Right. That’s cute. I came onto him, Dean.”

‘You’re sixteen!” Dean roared. 

“And I still like sex! It’s absurd that you and Dad both get to go fucking around whenever, wherever but you think you get to lock me into some kind of chastity belt.” He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you act like it’s the first dick I’ve sucked.” 

Dean almost choked on his own tongue. “Don’t say shit like that, Sammy.” 

“Why? It’s true.”

“Look, I know it doesn’t seem fair, but Dad has his reasons for wanting you to keep it in your pants for now, okay?” 

“And we’re supposed to just trust that they’re good reasons, or the right reasons, or based on good information. That’s crap.” He shook his head.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice tensed. “It’s Dad. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t trust you, because you don’t value our family. Our mission. He doesn’t want you getting attached to outsiders and losing sight of what’s important, that’s all.” 

“So locking me up is supposed to do what, make me want to enlist? That’s rational.” He snorted. 

“Follow orders, stop pretending like you’re going to college or leaving the family and he’ll loosen up the reins a bit.” He shook his head. “You keep pushing him and pushing him, and then you wonder why it’s always such a fight.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s been like this since I was seven, Dean. Even before I found out about all this hunting crap.” He sighed. “It’s not like you guys are even around to know what I’m up to anyway. I was screwing that guy for a month and you had no idea.”

“Yeah, and that’s going to cost me.” Dean glowered. “He’s going to start leaving me behind on hunts because he can’t trust you to behave yourself.” 

“He can just shoot me,” Sam offered. “I’m not going to hunt, and I’m clearly just in your way.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean turned the radio back up. 

They stopped for the night in Boise. Sam wasn’t sure where they were going, they never told him that kind of thing in case he slipped information to the enemy somehow, but they were stopping for the night in Boise. John handed Dean a motel room key and took a room on the other side of the motel. _Couldn’t even stand to be in the same space as me_ , Sam thought with rage. _Can’t even stand to breathe the same air_. Before he left, though, he passed a wooden paddle to Dean. “You take that defiance out of him, boy,” he ordered his eldest son.

“Yes, sir.” Dean all but saluted. He grabbed Sam by the arm and all but hauled him to the room, locking him in before going back for the bags. 

He returned, dumping the bags in the corner. “Alright, Sammy. You heard the man. Drop ‘em and bend over.” 

“Fuck off, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes and sat down on the chair. “I’m not letting you spank me, for Christ’s sake.” 

“Dad gave me an order and I’m going to follow it,” his brother told him grimly. “Don’t make me do it for you.” 

Dean would, too. Sam might be able to fight him off. He might not. Would it be worth the battle? “No.”

“Do you even understand why you’re being punished?”

“Not being you.” 

Dean moved lightning fast to grab his hair and pull him to his feet. Of course, Dean wasn’t stupid. He was also observant – a hunter had to be, if he wanted to last any length of time in the business. He must have picked up on some reaction in Sam, some dilation of his pupils or hitch in his breath, that hinted about what that particular sensation was doing to him. “Oh ho ho!” he exclaimed with upraised eyebrows. “Little Sammy has some kinks, doesn’t he?” 

“Fuck off, Dean!” he said again, more urgently this time.

“I don’t think so, Sammy.” He tugged again and yeah, Sam was getting hard again. This was all kinds of wrong. He tried to think about something else, anything else. Poltergeists, Latin conjugations, werewolf guts. He should absolutely not be turned on by his brother tugging on his hair. “Yeah, you definitely like that. Kinky little bastard. Is that what your creepazoid boyfriend liked?” 

“The hell do you care?” 

“Oh, little brother, this is going to be so much fun.” He patted Sam’s bruised face, gently. “Is that why you went to the Cryptkeeper there? Because he’d give you whatever kinky crap you wanted?”

“Shut up,” Sam growled. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“That’s not why you’re tenting your jeans?” Dean raised a hand and brought it down on Sam’s ass. Hard. Sam bit down on his lip to keep from gasping. “Oh yeah. Did he spank you?” 

“I’m not telling you.”

“So yes, then.” He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “You want it bad, Sam.” 

“What the hell, Dean?” Dean’s pupils were wide now, blown with lust. Lust for… Sam? This was – this was wrong. This couldn’t be happening. Sam knew that he was wrong, filthy right down to his core, but incest? No. 

Except apparently his body wasn’t saying no. His body was responding to his brother’s touch, his lips parting under his brother’s fingers. “Yeah, that’s it. You can’t even help yourself,” Dean smirked. “Yeah, I remember what it was like to be sixteen and so horny you thought you were going to burst with it. Of course, I had outlets. You – well, Dad told you there is nothing for you outside of this family. So I guess we’ll have to keep it in the family, won’t we?” 

“Dean, you don’t – you don’t actually want this.” 

“Get down on your knees, bitch, and I’ll show you just how much I want this.” He was already undoing his fly, and his hand shook. His hand shook, like this was a momentous occasion. Like he’d thought about this before. Oh God. Sam didn’t know what to think about that, what to feel about it. On the one hand, this was his brother and even in the eternal dysfunction that was the Winchester family that had to be wrong. 

On the other hand, Dean was the good son, the golden child, and he wanted…. Sam. Sam had wanted nothing for years - since Dean had started hunting with their father without Sam – but Dean’s attention and affection. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but should he turn it down because he was being fussy? 

He let Dean guide him to his knees, opened his mouth without much thought, and that – that was Dean’s dick, right there on his tongue. This was Dean, this was what Dean tasted like. He closed his mouth around his brother, taking him deeper and applying a little more suction. Yeah, Dean seemed to like that. He felt himself getting harder at the little moans and sighs coming from his brother, and oh God – what kind of fucked up piece of crap was he that he was getting off on sucking his big brother’s dick? It was the approval, he knew. He was doing something that made Dean happy, something that gave him pleasure, and Dean was showing that pleasure for once instead of just backing up their father’s criticisms. He worked the slit with his tongue, getting a strangled cry from Dean, and he played with his brother’s balls as he worked. He took Dean deep, too, no mean feat considering Dean’s girth.

“Christ, Sammy,” his brother gasped. “You take dick like a pro.” 

Sam just hummed, knowing that it probably hadn’t been intended as a compliment. That little gesture was enough to send Dean over the edge. 

Dean bounced back faster than Rodriguez had, still half-hard even when he stopped sending come down Sam’s throat. “You’re just greedy for it,” he marveled. “Such a little slut, Sam.” 

He looked away. “Maybe,” he muttered. “But I’m your slut.” 

“Damn straight you are. Come on. Off with those pants of yours. Still got orders, Sammy.” 

Outraged, Sam jumped to his feet. “Dude, I just blew you!”

“Orders are orders. Besides. You like it.” He grabbed Sam and guided his hands to the chair, then reached around and undid his jeans. “Going commando now, Sammy?” He eased his hand into Sam’s jeans. “Jeez. Puberty’s been good to you. Good thing I’m topping.” He felt along Sam’s shaft like he was exploring a new toy, or maybe a piece of meat. Sam’s cheeks burned with shame, but he couldn’t deny he was getting hard like a diamond. 

Dean pulled the jeans down and pulled Sam’s cheeks apart. “Is that –“

“Yes.”

“He plugged you up?” 

Sam sighed and turned around to glower at his brother. “Are you really more interested in what someone else did with this hole than what you’re going to do with it?”

Dean flinched for a moment. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” He moved away for a moment, heading over to his own bag. When he returned, he fastened a snug cock ring onto Sam. His mind short-circuited for a moment, because this wasn’t the ring Rodriguez had given him. This was Dean’s own cockring. “Here’s the deal, Sam. You don’t get to come until I say so. You are supposed to be getting punished after all.”

“Pretty sure this isn’t what Dad had in mind,” Sam growled. 

Dean shrugged. “He wasn’t specific. All right. Brace yourself.” 

Dean didn’t use the paddle. He used his bare hand, which was still enough to leave Sam’s skin read and raw and tender. Oh yes – he might not be entirely sure that the whole incest thing was a good idea, but right now he _needed_. And he hated himself for needing it, for getting turned on by this exercise that had clearly been designed to reinforce his subservient position, and for getting turned on by anything to do with his brother, but he needed to come so badly he was babbling into the upholstery. “Please, please, just please fuck me,” he begged after the tenth blow. “Just fuck me or touch me or take the ring off, just do it, please let me come.” 

Dean pulled back, shaking his hand a little. “Well, since you’re begging so nicely like such a good little slut.” He gave Sam one more swat before reaching over and grabbing a bottle of lube and slicking himself up. Sam had a moment to ponder the fact that his brother habitually lugged lube around with him before he recognized that Dean was pulling the plug out and pushing into him. 

Bare.

“So tight,” Dean panted, trembling as he held himself still. “Just like I imagined.” 

Because apparently Dean had imagined this before, being inside of Sam. Dean had imagined being inside of Sam, having sex with Sam, and Sam had never had the slightest clue. “Move,” Sam ordered him, and Dean did. 

For all of Dean’s roughness before, when it came to penetration he handled Sam like he was some kind of delicate flower. It wasn’t that it wasn’t good; it was just very different from Sam’s usual hookups. Slower, more tender, gentler. For all that, though, Dean almost forgot that he’d put a cock ring on Sam. He took it off and Sam came harder than he’d ever come, almost painfully. Dean came inside of him and they collapsed, still joined, to the floor. 

Dean magnanimously gave him first shower, then tucked him into the bed farthest from the door before going to clean up himself. He did insist that Sam sleep naked, though. He supposed that should disturb him, but at the moment he was too exhausted. He was asleep before Dean got out of the shower. Dean didn’t sleep in his bed. Sam knew this because he caught Dean sneaking into his bed at four in the morning.

“Ssh, Sammy. It’s okay.” 

Sam rolled over. He felt a calloused hand reach over his hip, moving toward his groin. “What’re you doing, Dean?” he muttered. 

“My little slut, remember?” He could hear the grin in Dean’s voice.

Sam considered. There were two ways to go about this. He supposed that if someone wanted to give him a random hand job there were worse things in life. The fact that it was his brother seemed to matter less and less as he got past the initial shock. _Compartmentalization_ , his brain supplied. _And sleep deprivation_

.

He told his brain to shut up. 

When the sun finally came up, their father met them in the parking lot. He still wouldn’t even look at Sam, but issued his marching orders directly to Dean. They were going to a cabin near Boardman, Oregon, where they would wait out the summer while he worked some jobs. He’d check in when he could, but it was Dean’s responsibility to keep track of and train Sam since clearly the spoiled brat couldn’t take care of himself. He was gone before dark that same day. 

The cabin wasn’t much. There was one room, plus a loft with a double bed in it. It was remote, no neighbors, and far enough from any kind of civilization that Sam knew that going to school was a distant dream. That had probably been his father’s point in dumping them there.

Dean was a lot more enthusiastic about the place. “I don’t know, Sammy. A couple of months, remote cabin to ourselves. I don’t think there’s any real reason my slutty little brother even needs to put clothes on, do you?” 

Sam hesitated. He’d wanted a proper relationship, and had been forced to accept the fact that it was out of his reach until college. Okay, so his brother didn’t exactly count as a “proper relationship.” He was someone Sam loved very much, wanted to please for reasons that had nothing to do with genitalia. He’d wanted someone who wanted him, and if that was what he could get from Dean, was it really so wrong? 

And maybe Dean had wanted a proper relationship too. He wasn’t sitting here and complaining about the lack of girls or anything. He was suggesting a willingness to be available to Sam, to spending a certain amount of his time and energy paying attention to Sam and making Sam feel good. Maybe Dean, too, had a void inside of him that needed filling. Maybe Sam could fill it, if only for a little while. 

Maybe Dean had only been waiting to find out that Sam liked guys.

Slowly, he stripped off his shirts, then his jeans. He placed them carefully in the laundry bag. Then he handed the plug, the cockring and the dildo over to his older brother. “No reason at all, big brother.”


End file.
